This is not happening. Not again. But it is. I can not remember if I ever told you about the place where DS was in daycare before he stayed home with dad in the fall. He really liked going there, and it was always nice to leave him there. Not like it was with another place where we had to go once: DS would scream his head off every morning I had to leave him there.
Why am I thinking about all this now? On Saturday I read in the newspaper that DS will never be able to go back to that daycare, as the caretaker has died. My day was ruined. Hell, my day is still ruined. If you see someone every morning and night for several years, it is hard to believe that person is gone. And she was not even old, only a few years older than I am. Just a few years over 40.
I did not know what happened, as I had not heard of her being sick and if it had been an accident, it would be in the newspaper. Yesterday I talked to a colleague who lives just two houses away from her. It seems that she got an infection that got bad quickly. This is so sad. I still can not believe it actually happened. She had two kids, and they are only 7 and 12 years old. I have not yet told DS, as I’m not sure what could I say.
What is the point in anything? Why plan on something if you could be dead tomorrow? There is no guarantee that you live to be 80 years old. You really should live every day like it is your last, as it very well may be. Shit happens. A lot of it seems to be happening to me.